


Me and My Important Extra

by insatiablegaydesire



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comedian!Richie, Established Relationship, Gay Richie Tozier, Humor, M/M, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Richie Tozier's Stand Up Act, a piece from a set after richies return to standup, italics used for emphasis indicators, rated teen for a couple sex jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28654902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insatiablegaydesire/pseuds/insatiablegaydesire
Summary: Richie Tozier has a lot to say about the words he uses to refer to his husband. Oh, sorry, his "important extra."You ever think about how fucking weird the phrase “significant other” is? I mean, it’s not wrong. Yes, they’re significant. Yes, they’re my other. But who came up with that shit? Like, who decided those were going to be the specific words? I think that in some parallel universe people are calling their partner “important extra.” Like my life is a movie, but I get to be the main character, and you can be, like, some guy who finds the body and screams bloody murder. Maybe I’m the murderer, maybe I’m the body, but I sure as hell am getting more screen time than you.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 18
Kudos: 86





	Me and My Important Extra

**Author's Note:**

> thank you armilla for making [the banger tweet](https://twitter.com/kaspbrave/status/1340723040942866432?s=20) that inspired this. this is a gift from a sad clown to another sad clown. honk honk

You ever think about how fucking weird the phrase “significant other” is? I mean, it’s not wrong. Yes, they’re significant. Yes, they’re my other. But who came up with that shit? Like, who decided those were going to be the specific words? I think that in some parallel universe people are calling their partner “important extra.” Like my life is a movie, but I get to be the main character, and you can be, like, some guy who finds the body and screams bloody murder. Maybe I’m the murderer, maybe I’m the body, but I sure as hell am getting more screen time than you.

Hey--Maybe you even get to say a line! Something cool, like “Watch it, kid!” or “I’ll have what she’s having” to my soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend-who-is-actually-my-Hollywood-mandated-beard. Maybe my movie actually _is_ a reflection of my life and the important extra shows up a minute before it ends. Maybe in the post-credits scene. Maybe in the _post_ -post-credits scene. The movie is all about me and at the end you can show up in a bathrobe and lecture the audience to clean up their spilled sodas and put their pants back on. After all, if it’s my life, someone’s bound to be getting it on in the back row. 

But I think the thing that really gets me about “significant other” is how formal it feels. And that works in some instances. “Richie Tozier, and his significant other, on the red carpet.” “Richie Tozier's significant other prefers red wine over white.” But what about “Richie Tozier’s significant other absolutely smashed him at Uno the other day?” Doesn’t really work like that, does it? It’s the equivalent of reading an erotic novel--don’t gasp like that’s unbelievable, I hid my sexuality for over four decades, you don’t know every part of me. It’s the equivalent of reading an erotic novel and realizing the word “cock” has been replaced with “penile shaft.” Like, what the fuck? Why are we getting so clinically descriptive here? What’s wrong with cock? I like the way it feels in my mouth. The _word_ , you _freaks_ , get your mind out of the gutter. Not that you’d be wrong.

“Significant other” is a mouthful as well. Now that we’re married we just call each other husband, but before? Jesus, it was like we were going through the whole dictionary throwing out names. Boyfriend felt too juvenile, and even though we _knew_ we were living out our teenage dreams, it’s not like we wanted to _admit_ it. So that was nixed. Partner didn’t feel gay enough. I spent too fucking long in the closet to refer to the guy I’m publicly in love with as my _partner_. What are we, criminals? Cowboys? Gay cowboy criminals? God, I wish. Maybe that should be the movie me and my important extra star in. So we settled with significant other, but that doesn’t mean we liked it. I took pretty much any chance I could to avoid it. Who wants to be forty years old talking about their significant other? I feel like a kindergarten teacher trying to hide the fact that he’s getting fucked on the reg from his students. Like maybe if we don’t _say_ we’re together, they won’t know. Bitch, they’re five. Their parents are still fertile. They know.

Speaking of kindergarteners, my husband and I are thinking of adopting.

[a loud rush of cheers go up in the audience].

_Jesus_ , okay, I get it! Exciting news! I swear, if that keeps happening in every city I say that line, I’m gonna have to cut it from the script. Joking. I fucking love saying that. I used to never think I wanted kids, hell, never thought I’d get to have kids. But lately I feel like a horny housewife approaching her mid 30s and wanting to do it on every surface in every room of the house. I want my guy to put a baby in me. Yes, I know, that’s not how biology works. So we have to go through all this fucking paperwork instead. Who knew legally buying a kid was this hard? Might as well try it out the illegal way at this point. For legal reasons, that was a joke. You, in the audience, who look at me and think this guy looks evil enough to kidnap a baby, yeah, I don’t blame you. But I promise you I’m less skeevy than I look! Well. At least, not that kind of skeevy. God help the child me and my husband get set up with. _If_ we even get one.

It’s a special kind of sadness when everyone’s telling you it’s all worked out, your kid’s coming home, and you got the room all painted and the clothes all picked out and you’ve read all the books and brushed up on your sign language because hey, this kid’s hard of hearing, and so was the one two times before that. And then they call you up early one Saturday to tell you it didn’t work out. Like, what? What do you mean it didn’t work out? The kid out of stock? They run out of ink at the old kid factory, not enough workers during the recession to build all the parts? And then it starts all over again, and ends all over again, but you don’t give up, because you’d do just about anything to get another important extra in your life. 

Eh, maybe that’s too sad for a Trashmouth set. But hey, the one about how I was haunted by my own sexuality and grew up in a town that hated me got great ratings! If you’re disappointed, this is your own fault, darling. Imagine I just sent that as a text to all your phones with a little red heart emoji at the end. That’s what I’m imagining.

Let’s have another group imagine: it’s the early 80s, you’re just a kid, and you’re at the movie theater, your favorite place on Earth, where you can forget where you came from and where you’re headed and just exist in a place that isn’t quite real, where you don’t have to worry, and you’re sugar high on soda and Red Vines you bought with the money you made mowing Ms. Bridges’s lawn last week, and you hear the whisperings from a row down below between a man and a woman. They’re not together, somehow you know that. For one, they’re the only couple talking instead of necking during the previews. Dead fucking giveaway. The theater is local, but you don’t recognize the guy, so you think he’s from out of town. Maybe a cousin of the girl? A visiting friend? The collar on his jacket is turned up in a way that screams just-off-the-Amtrak-from-Penn-Station and you remember once when one of your friends said he heard about a new virus going around in New York City. One that you weren’t allowed to talk about in front of grown ups, because only grown ups got this virus. But not the grown ups you knew. The other ones. The ones you were afraid of. You’re a little scared of this one, too. Because when the girl next to him asks about his significant other, gender left nondescript, the guy says “He got a new job.” And your hand stops its back and forth between the already half-empty popcorn bucket and your open mouth, and you feel terrified. And decades later, every time you hear it, you think back to that moment, to that feeling of being seen in the one place you thought you could fade away into the darkness. 

Again, maybe too sad for a Trashmouth set. But I don’t think it really is. Because it was one of the first times I truly felt _seen_. Sure, it was fucking terrifying, but there was also a little bit of a thrill in that. You ever see those videos of deaf babies hearing their mother’s voice for the very first time? There’s always that moment before the cuteness sets in, where the noise is _sudden_ and _loud_ and confusing as _hell_. But it's only seconds before the smiling starts, then the laughing, and then all the adults in the room are crying and you are too, behind your phone screen at 2 AM. That’s what it felt like, time and time and time after time, hearing that word again.

So, yeah, it’s weird. “Significant other” is weird. Some may even call it queer. Yes, that was a gay pun, you’re allowed to laugh. I saw that moment of terror in all of your eyes, like if you let loose it would be equivalent to a hate crime. And I appreciate that. But relax, will you? I swear, it’s like I’m watching my 8 year old self hear the word “significant other” for the first time, except now I’m the one saying it. Funny how that works, isn’t it? Being destined to become the thing you were scared of, growing up into your childhood fear?

Huh. Okay, that’s sad, but it’s not too sad for a Trashmouth set. Funny and sad, that’s what I’m made of, isn’t it? A sad clown since the day I was born. Here’s hoping this sad clown gets to live the rest of his life with _two_ important extras instead of one. I really think he might. 

[pause, silence]

I really think he might.

I love you, and good night!


End file.
